Only in My Dreams
by MandaPanda2
Summary: Olivia is visited by Christmas ghosts after Caitlin's "death". (A Christmas story.)
1. Christmas Eve

Disclaimer: All characters (unless otherwise specified) belong to Aaron Spelling, E. Duke Vincent, Gary Tomlin, NBC, et al and are used here strictly for non-profit entertainment purposes.  
Rating: PG 14  
Genre: Drama  
Spoilers: The first year of the show, but I did fudge canon…just a little.  
Summary: Olivia is visited by Christmas ghosts after Caitlin's "death".

_A/N: All of my other stories will be on temporary hiatus until 2009._

* * *

Chapter 1: "Christmas Eve"

Caitlin was dead, to begin with.

An overwhelming tide of sorrow coursed through Olivia as she pulled the curtains closed. A glorious sunset cast across the sky, luscious shades of orange, yellow and red coming together. She turned away from the window, wrapping her arms around herself. It held little appeal now. Nothing did.

Not anymore.

She sank to the bed, shivering in the shadowy room. Nothing was as it should be. Hot tears sprang to her eyes and she blinked through them, her throat tight. Her daughter, her beautiful young daughter, was dead. Her sparkling blue eyes dim and her cheerful laugh silenced forever.

The baby in her womb kicked, mourning the loss of his older sister. Sobs threatened to overtake her and she gasped, pressing her hand to her stomach. Caitlin should be here with her now, sharing the joy of feeling their children kick. Her weeping filled the silence, echoing the cry of the broken woman that she was. She looked up blindly, sucking air into her tortured lungs. Caitlin was dead because of her.

Olivia shook her head sadly, leaning back to the bed. She turned onto her side, bringing her hands to her face. Dead by my hand, she thought, bringing on more ferocious tears. She pressed her face into the pillow, hiding from the world as she cried into the silk. Her sobs rang in the quiet room, an odd counterpoint to the festive carols that echoed from downstairs.

A gentle knock disturbed her and she wiped her face, struggling to sit up as she called out, "What?"

The door opened slowly and Bette's head poked through the opening. "How are you feeling, Toots?"

She shrugged, sitting back in the bed as she pulled a quilt to her chest. "Fine."

Bette frowned, coming into the room with a loaded tray. "I thought that you might be feeling- well, 'fine' as you put it." She smiled at her own joke and sat on the edge of the bed, resting the tray on Olivia's lap. "Ok, we've got hot chocolate, topped off with extra fluffy marshmallows. There's also a considerably large plate of fresh-baked sugar cookies. Now, I'm more than willing-"

"Bette."

"-to let you have all the peppermint bark, but-"

Olivia's blood boiled in her veins, her friend's too cheerful chatter grating on her nerves. She looked up slowly, a shrill ring echoing in her ears. It was too much. "Bette!" she exploded, causing her friend to look up with a start. "Stop!"

"Olivia-"

"No! No! No!" She pushed the tray back to Bette and turned away. "I don't want the Christmas cookies. I don't want the hot chocolate. I don't want the bloody peppermint bark, whatever that is." She watched Bette's face turn, her lips purse.

"Fine. What do you want?"

"Nothing," she sulked. She turned away, leaning back against the cushioned headboard. "I just want to be left alone."

Bette inhaled sharply and grabbed the tray, jerking it back to her. "Fine." She stomped to the door, the tray against her chest. "You know, Olivia?" She glanced over her shoulder, sparing Olivia a biting glance. "I know you're upset about Caitlin, but that's no excuse to turn into Scrooge."

Olivia listened to her leave, slamming the door behind her. She flinched at the sound, closing her eyes gently. She didn't want to be cheered up. She didn't want to feel better or happy. She didn't want to celebrate Christmas. She just wanted to sit in her room, her quiet room and be alone. She sighed tiredly and winced at a particularly strong jab from the baby. _What about Daddy_, the kick seemed to ask.

Yes, what about Gregory?

She opened her eyes slowly, lowering her hand as she thought of her husband. He was alone in their home, drowning in the vast emptiness. How very like them to scatter, fleeing from the painful truth to wallow in their own pain. Except this time, he didn't. He wanted her near him, wanted her home. And she pushed him away. She couldn't look at him without remembering all the other Christmases they shared, the ones where Caitlin was alive.

She couldn't look at him with out being forcibly reminded that it was their fault she wasn't here with them.

It was too much to bear.

She sighed, her chin quivering as a fresh cascade of tears rolled down her cheeks. Christmas was dead to her now, as dead as her beautiful daughter. She gripped the pillow to her, letting her spent eyes close. Her chest heaved as she wished for sleep and an end to the day.

Anything that would ease the suffocating guilt that consumed her.

* * *

Shaking.

Violent shaking.

Olivia woke with a start, her eyes crusted shut with dry tears. The bed, the entire _room_, was throbbing uncontrollably. A ferocious roar erupted and she covered her ears, wincing at the penetrating noise. It invaded every ounce of her, from her head to her toes. She pushed herself up, kneeling in the middle of the bed as she looked blindly around the room.

Her first thought was that it was an earthquake. Tears of panic sprang to her eyes, the pictures flapping haphazardly against the walls. The light on the night table flickered, the doors to the closet slamming open and closed. Her brow furrowed as she watched the closet, her hands falling slowly from her ears.

"This is no earthquake," she murmured to herself, pressing her hand to her stomach. The baby kicked, in seeming agreement with his mother.

A phantom gust swept through the room, stirring her hair. She turned to the balcony, the curtains pulled tight and knowing the doors to be locked. She scrambled to the edge of the bed, prepared to slide off when heavy footsteps echoed on the stairs. Her eyes widened, her mouth gaping as she stared at the bedroom door. Feet clomped up the stairs, one after the other.

"Bette!" she screamed, backing into the corner of the bedroom. "Bette, help! Someone's in the house!"

The steps became louder, coming down the hall.

To _her_ bedroom.

"Oh, God," she cried, the steps ceasing just outside her bedroom door. Her hands anxiously played with her pearl necklace, as she turned her face away from the door.

"_Olivia_."

The voice was unmistakable, ringing like a bell in the cacophony of the shaking room and ghostly roar. She turned, looking around the room. It was empty except for her. But she heard him. With a tentative step, she moved away from the corner where she sought sanctuary. "Del?" she whispered as the room stilled suddenly.

The wind died, the deafening roar dropping to a hush. She smoothed her hair down, turning in a circle. "Del?" she repeated, urgently.

A shimmering mist floated through the bedroom door, swirling together. And there he was. Olivia gasped, covering her mouth as she watched Del moved through the silence to her. His eyes were wide, looking sadly back at her. He moved slowly, his clothes tattered. Chains hung around his neck, wrapping around to his arms and the rest of his body. "Del," she gasped, reaching out to touch his cheek. Her hand floated through him, her fingers curling in the icy mist. She pulled her hand back in shock, tears of fear stinging her eyes. "What's happened to you?"

Del shrugged, stooped under the weight of the chains. He extended his arms, looking forlornly from one to the other. "Punishment."

Fear rose in Olivia's throat and her head swam as the transparent mist moved through her. The chains dragged noisily, scratching the wood floor behind Del. "Punishment?" she repeated with a shiver as she turned to follow him.

He nodded, gathering the chains together. He held them up for a long moment before dropping them ceremoniously. They clattered to the floor, Olivia wincing as they clanged around her feet. "My life," he whispered, his breath crystallizing in the cold. "I had to pay for the life I lived on Earth."

She placed her hands over her stomach, as if that could shield her innocent child from Del's grotesque sentence. "You weren't that bad," she argued weakly, bringing a smile to the ghost's face.

"Ruthless businessman," he countered. "True friend to no one. Terrible brother. Neglectful father." He sighed, as if speaking tired him. He shook his head, his eyes falling. "I've earned my fate."

"But-"

"As you're earning yours."

Olivia's head flew up, her eyes wide. "What are you talking about?"

"You." He rolled his shoulders, the heavy chains digging into him. "We share the same fate."

She shook her head violently, refusing to believe that the same sickly chains awaited her. "No! No! You're wrong!" She spun away from him, mumbling under her breath, "I won't be guilty by association."

"But you are." She looked over her shoulder, blue eyes narrowed in thought. "You damned yourself the moment you agreed to Gregory's plan."

"That was his plan! His! Not mine!"

"But you went along with it all the same." The sad truth lay between them, prickly in the night. "It was your job to talk him out of it."

"My job?" She stared quietly back at Del for a long moment, her heart thundering. "You know, better than almost _anyone_, what Gregory is like when he gets an idea in his head."

Del's mouth set and he shook his head slowly. "It doesn't work like that, darlin'. You were his conscience." Her eyes fell and she hung her head, her thick hair falling like a curtain. "It was wrong and you knew it…didn't you?" She nodded, looking up as a tear rolled slowly down her cheek. "You doomed yourself when you couldn't stop him."

Her throat tightened and a strange feeling came over her. He was right. She should have stood up to Gregory, should have recognized the ludicrous idea for what it was: impossible. She should have refused him, arguing to hell and back that it was wrong. "You thought the car accident was your punishment, didn't you?" she heard Del ask and she blinked in surprise. He chuckled to himself when a sheepish blush colored her cheeks. "It doesn't work like that."

"It should. I deserved it," she hissed, recalling the crunch of the car's hood against the metal barrier. The dizzy feeling of the car bouncing down the hill. The agonizing pain that ripped through her, the warm trickle of blood down her face as consciousness alluded her.

"Maybe," he said, readjusting the chain that wrapped around his middle. "But there is still time for you to change your fate."

Her eyes flashed as a shiver went down her spine. "Change my fate? Change my fate!" Hot tears sprang to her eyes and she blinked through them, angrily wiping them away. "I can't change anything! Caitlin is dead!" She fell back to the bed, covering her face as she sobbed into her hands.

"It's never too late," Del said softly over her mournful sobbing. "There's still time."

She peeked through her fingers, sniffling. "How?"

A teasing smile itched at his mouth and he spoke slowly, "You're going to have some visitors tonight."

Her eyebrow arched, questioning. "Visitors? What kind of visitors?"

He shook his head, an exhausted sigh on his lips. "I can't tell you, darlin'. That would ruin the surprise."

Olivia stood, her hands angrily on her hips. "Surprise? This is ridiculous!" Her eyes flashed and she poked him accusingly in the chest, her finger going through him. "You're dead! You're not here!" She nodded to herself, speaking faster to reassure herself. "That's it. This is all a dream. A crazy nightmare."

She turned away as Del began to chuckle, pulling her nightgown and robe from behind the pillows. "I just need to sleep," she told herself, all the while continuing to nod. "I'm not in my right mind and I just need a good night's sleep." She stopped suddenly, looking over shoulder as she held the silk nightclothes to her chest. "Turn away."

"If I'm not really here, what does it matter if I see you naked?" he laughed.

She grimaced, stepping into the bathroom and reaching for the door. "Good night, Del," she said firmly, closing the door.

He chuckled to himself as he gathered his chains together. He glanced at the closed bathroom door, pulling the chains along. "Sleep well, Olivia. Sleep well." He floated back through the door, the last swirls of ghostly mist disappearing into the wood.

After several moments, Olivia opened the bathroom door and peered out into the bedroom. It was still and quiet. There was no trace of her eerie visitor, no evidence of the almost earthquake that had stirred her from a sound sleep. She sighed in relief, drawing the lapels of her robe together. "Del wasn't here. I'm just tired," she whispered to herself. "Terribly sleep deprived."

She pulled back the comforter and climbed into the bed. She pulled the sheets up to her chin, sinking deeper into the bed's warm embrace. "A good night's sleep is just what I need," she murmured, reaching to turn off the light before she turned on her side.

She was asleep within moments, breathing deep in the dark room as a wicked breeze whipped across the beach.


	2. Christmas Gone By

(See the first chapter for disclaimer, notes, spoiler, etc.)

Chapter 2: "Christmas Gone By"

All was quiet on the Western shore.

The streets of the oceanfront hamlet were deserted, its citizens tucked snugly into their beds. Children slept soundly, dreaming of Santa and presents. Adults slept peacefully, content with the knowledge that their families were safe and sound. Christmas did that. It brought out the best in people, warm and fuzzy feelings that alluded most during the year.

In a small house just up the beach from One Ocean Avenue, Olivia slept restlessly. The mattress was uncomfortable, the pillows strange and the sheets rough. It wasn't her bed. She hadn't had a decent night's sleep since she moved in with Bette.

Since the accident.

Since Caitlin died.

Downstairs, the large grandfather clock struck the hour, tolling bells. Midnight. It's chime echoed in the silent house, a deep reassuring sound. Upstairs, a leafy palm blew in the wind and scratched against Olivia's window. She rolled over, her eyes half open. She sighed, noticing the clock on the night table.

From the corner of the room, a dot of light appeared. She sat up slowly, rubbing her eyes as the dot grew. A beam of sparkling gold danced before her, morphing slowly into a head, arms and legs. Her breath ran shallow, gripping the sheets to her as she watched the being. Thin beams of light shot out from its fingers, moving gracefully closer to Olivia.

"Merry Christmas," it said softly, its voice lyrical and oddly accented.

Olivia shook her head, willing sense into her. "You're not Del," she gasped.

A small smile came to its face as it moved closer. Olivia's eyes widened, gold light scattering across her face. It was a chubby faced baby, with soft fair ringlets and eyes that sparkled. "I am the Ghost of Christmas Gone By."

"Christmas Gone By?" Olivia repeated slowly, pinching the soft flesh of her wrist to test her grip on reality. She winced, crying out as she hit a nerve.

"Yes." It reached out, covering Olivia's wrist with a small warm hand. It looked up, meeting Olivia's wide eyes. "Better?" the ghost asked after a long moment. She nodded, inching closer to the glowing being.

"Why are you here?"

The little ghost sighed, floating down to be eye-level with Olivia. "So that you remember."

Olivia shook her head, leaning back against the headboard. "No. No, I don't want to remember."

"But you must," the little voice said simply, its eyes pleading. "Only then can you know peace." It floated up, holding out its small pudgy hand. "Come and see."

She shook her head again, letting the sheets fall away from her. The nightgown covering her pregnant stomach glowed, the merlot silk festive in the late night hour. "I can't. I'm pregnant."

A playful glimmer sparked in its eye and it reached out, pressing its hands gently to Olivia's stomach. Their eyes met, the fear receding in Olivia's as she drew comfort from the little ghost's. "Fear not," it said softly, sliding its hand into Olivia's. "All will be well with the little one."

A strange weightlessness became Olivia and she looked down, shrieking as she floated up from the bed. She gripped the small shoulders, pressing her face into its neck. "Look around you," it whispered in her ear.

She lifted her eyes slowly, gasping in surprise. Thousands of stars glittered around her, diamonds on black velvet. "Where are we?" she asked, not brave enough to look down.

"Somewhere between yesterday and today," it replied, patting her shoulder reassuringly. "Don't worry. We're almost there."

"Almost where?"

"Yesterday."

She bit her lip, her hair flowing behind her as they flew through the dark night. "Yesterday wasn't so wonderful," she said softly.

The Ghost of Christmas Gone By chuckled, patting her shoulder. "Oh, but it was. See, I'll show you. Look."

Olivia looked over, her jaw dropping. "I don't believe it…" she sighed as the imposing brick façade parted for them. She blinked, her feet touching ground as a small lamp glowed from the corner of the room. "What kind of joke is this?"

The little ghost shook its head, sweeping its hand across the room. "This is your room."

"I know it's my room," she snapped, turning in small circle as she took it all in. The lumpy Spartan bed with the rough green comforter. Floorboards that never knew warmth and always made her feet curl uncomfortably. The ugly furniture, covered with age and scratches. Her stomach flipped and a nervous feeling coursed through her. "Why am I here?"

But the ghost was looking at the door, waiting with rapt attention. "Here you come," it said softly.

Olivia turned, the breath rushing from her body. She was face-to-face with herself, thirty-five years younger. Young Olivia raced into the room, kicking her shoes into the corner as she flopped on the bed. Her long hair was held back by pink barrettes, dark waves framing her small rosy face. "It can't be," Olivia breathed, watching herself.

"Why is she so excited?" the ghost wondered, its face screwed in thought.

They watched in silence as little Olivia slid the straps of her satchel from her shoulder, opening it eagerly. She dumped the contents onto her bed, school books and papers falling out. An eerie sense of déjà vu tickled adult Olivia as she watched herself. "No!" she shouted, running over to the little girl and reaching to stop her. "Don't write it!"

"Olivia," the Ghost of Christmas Gone By said gently, "she can't hear you."

She spun around, her eyes blazing. "But, she has to! She can't let Hel-"

" 'My Christmas Wish'," the little girl recited aloud, her tongue sneaking out the corner of her mouth as she concentrated on forming her letters. She looked down, admiring her printing and nodding her satisfaction. She rolled onto her stomach, leaning up on her elbows to continue writing. " 'This year, my Christmas wish is to have my mommy and daddy back.'" She sighed, chewing on the eraser of the pencil for a moment. " 'I miss them a lot.'"

Adult Olivia backed into the wall, her eyes filling with tears. She shook her head sadly, hiding a sob behind her hand. "_Olivia_!" she heard an angry voice shout and she instinctively moved away from the door.

The little girl jumped up, tucking the paper behind her as she turned to the door. She paled as the door flew open, banging against the wall behind it. "Olivia!" Helen Blake shouted, her eyes dark. "How many times have I told you not to run through the house!"

Young Olivia's eyes fell, her bottom lip puffed out as she shifted from one foot to the other. "I'm sorry, Aunt Helen," she said softly.

"I'm sick to death of constantly having to tell you that," she snapped, forcing the little girl's face up. She stared down into the blue eyes, squeezing her chin. "Do you understand me?" The chin quivered within her hand and she sighed in disgust. "_Do you_?"

"Yes, Aunt Helen," she replied, her voice a weak whisper.

Helen threw her chin away and was about to turn away when she noticed the sheet of paper on the bed. "What's this?" she asked, snatching it out of the girl's reach. She read it quickly, cruel laughter bubbling in her throat. " 'My Christmas Wish'," she mocked, snickering as she crumpled the paper in her hand. "Let me tell you something: I wish my irresponsible little brother was here too. Then I wouldn't be stuck with _you_." She dropped the ball of paper to the ground, kicking it away like it was dirt on her shoe. "Just another mouth to feed," she muttered, turning from the room and slamming the door behind her.

Adult Olivia flinched as the wall echoed the slam and she wiped the tears from her cheeks. Her skin crawled as she inhaled, her lungs expanding painfully. She watched herself turn away, reaching for a small picture frame on the windowsill. She moved across the room, standing behind the sniffling child. Two smiling faces looked up at them through the glass. Thomas and Audrey, killed in car collision one snowy night last winter.

She looked down as the child began to cry and she sat on the old bed, reaching for her. But her hands went through her, disappearing like a puff of smoke. She looked up at the ghost, wondering. It shook its head sadly, floating over to her. "You can only watch."

"But, but," she cried, reaching again for the little girl, "she needs to know that it's going to be alright." Her heart broke, watching as the sobbing child hugged the picture of her dead parents to her chest. "She needs to know that she won't always feel this bad."

The ghost put her hand on Olivia's shoulder, squeezing gently. "She will, one day. Just as you did."

Olivia's face fell and she wept into her hands, hiding her face. "Why did you bring me here? I told you," she sobbed. "Yesterday wasn't always wonderful."

"Perhaps," it said gently, hovering next to her. "Perhaps you need to relive yesterday to realize how precious today is."

"Except today isn't precious," Olivia snapped, her eyes bright with unshed tears.

"Maybe not now," it countered, taking her hand and placing it on her stomach. The baby inside kicked and Olivia looked up. "But if not now, then it will be again. Maybe tomorrow."

She sighed tiredly, watching the tears fall from the little girl's eyes. "No more," she whispered, a quiet plea as she turned to the shimmering ghost. "Take me back."

"There's more to see," it replied gently, taking her hand. Olivia shook her head as the room dissolved around them, a cloud of swirling fog consuming them. An icy wind blew around her, making her shiver.

"Please!" she shouted over the wind. "No more!"

But the ghost only smiled, the gleam in its eye attesting to a secret. The haze around them dissolved and Olivia blinked, her eyes adjusting to the brightness. A festive tree stood proudly in the living room, every bough covered with decorations. Flickering candles gave off a warm spicy scent, mixing with the familiar scent of evergreen. Merry bows hung over the doorways, cheerful bells ringing from the door knob. Soft carols drifted out of the speakers as the front door opened.

"_Liv_! _I'm home_!"

Olivia stepped closer instinctively as a pair of feet rushed down the hall. "Darling!" she heard and she watched herself jump into Gregory's outstretched arms. "I missed you!"

"I couldn't stay in Montreal another day," he explained beneath a shower of kisses as he swung her around. She sighed happily, hugging him close. Olivia and the ghost stepped aside as the couple breezed past them. Quiet giggles filled the soft silence and her eyes darkened, momentarily jealous of the past. Gregory was filled with a boyish enthusiasm that was nothing more than a distant memory. And look at herself, bright eyes and arms that refused to be anywhere but around him.

"You didn't want to spend Christmas in cold old Canada, did you?" young Olivia asked quietly, teasing as her hands walked up his chest.

"Not by myself, _eh_," he joked, falling back to the sofa. She snuggled against him, her head against his chest as they watched the tree. "You did all this?"

Her eyes turned up, suddenly bashful as she nodded. "Too much?"

He shrugged, glancing around the room. "I wouldn't know." A long sigh followed as he ran his hand down her hair, silk against his palm.

She smiled gently, her finger running over the new band on his ring finger. "It's our first Christmas." Her voice dropped and her eyes twinkled mischievously. "To be honest, I was decorating for 'too much'."

"You were?"

"Just a little," she chuckled. She hugged his chest and stretched out on the couch, his hand resting on her. "I want to remember this Christmas-"

"Always," adult Olivia whispered, completing the long ago wish.

The ghost looked over and said gently, "It was the first Christmas that you had with a family in many years."

She nodded, unable to turn away from the couple on the sofa. How happy and hopeful they were! What happened to them? The joyous echoes of yesterday rang in her ears, stirring her closer to them. Her cold heart melted, watching them. The first twenty years of her life were but a distant memory when she met Gregory. She had gotten a family again.

"And his," it said after a long moment, reaching for her hand.

The filmy cloud appeared around them again and she turned to the ghost, panicked. "No! Can't we stay just a little longer?"

The ghost shook its head, drawing her close. "We've seen all that we need."

"No! I didn't! I-" She watched sadly as the living room dissolved into a blinding white light. A sob rang mournfully in the silence and she turned away, dejected when Bette's guest room reappeared. "Take me back!" she insisted, whirling on the ghost.

"I can't," it said simply, floating before her.

"_Why_?"

The small face fell, the warm glow beginning to dull. "I am not long for this Earth." Olivia frowned, watching the ghost begin to shrink and fade. The dimly glowing arm reached out, patting her comfortingly. "Remember," it whispered, the voice sad and vanishing, "before the glory of sunrise is insufferable darkness." It looked up, its regretful eyes meeting Olivia's. "Like everything, it too shall pass."

There was a small crack and a hiss, the golden light disappearing as quickly as it appeared. A chill of darkness swept through the room, a gloomy feeling that made Olivia's skin crawl. Her chest was full and warm, leftover from reliving the newlyweds first Christmas. Or was she just ill? She shook her head loose from the memories as she cupped her cheeks. "Am I sick?" she wondered aloud. "I must be. This is all," she murmured, climbing back into bed, "just some kind of feverish hallucination."

She nodded to herself, drawing the sheets up to her chin as she laid her head on the pillow. Her eyes closed, a dreamy sleep claiming her as Gregory's long ago laugh echoed in her ears.


	3. Christmas at the Moment

(See the first chapter for disclaimer, notes, spoiler, etc.)

Chapter 3: "Christmas at the Moment"

Bette's Grandfather clock struck the hour, a resounding chime that echoed through the house. It moved swiftly, invading every pocket of quiet. Olivia opened her eyes slowly, blinking. Exhaustion burned at her eyes as she pushed herself up, looking around the room in a daze. Was it still night? Which night?

She rested her head in her hands, yawning. The baby kicked sympathetically, no doubt not thrilled with the prospect of waking again. A hazy fog clouded her mind, sticky cobwebs that refused coherent thought. Why was she awake?

A hearty chuckle disturbed the silence and she flinched, her heart jumping into her throat. Her eyes flew up, widening as the taunting scent of cinnamon tickled her nostrils. "_Merry Christmas_!"

She tilted her head, speechless at the sight before her. For what should have appeared but an exceedingly plump man, reveling in a delightful, yet _enormous_, dinner. A Christmas dinner. Tempting scents fought for control and she inhaled instinctively, savoring the meal. A generous turkey sat center stage, surrounded by heaping bowls of golden roasted potatoes and steaming vegetables. Dishes of fragrant stuffing and sauces made Olivia's mouth water and she stood slowly, lazily drawing her robe closed. A blazing Christmas pudding caught her eye, as did the mountain of cakes and other sweets.

"Is it still Christmas?" she asked softly.

He laughed uproariously, bits of vanilla cake flying from his mouth. "Is it still Christmas!" he exclaimed, mocking her question. He jumped down from his throne, sucking a dollop of thick icing from his finger. His jaunty green robe swished around him, the plush cashmere trimmed with thick white fur. "Of course it's still Christmas!"

Her brow furrowed, watching as the giant laughed uncontrollably and enthusiastically slapped his thigh. His large belly shook, his face flushed as his sandy brown hair flopped over his eyes. "What kind of question is that?" he asked, his voice booming with amusement.

She crossed her arms over her chest, steaming with insult. He was still laughing. Laughing at _her_! Her mouth pinched as she watched him wipe tears of glee from his eyes. "It's _my_ question," she hissed.

"Ah-ha!" He wagged his finger at her, chiding, "It's you then!"

"Me?"

His massive hand shot out, dwarfing hers as he energetically shook it. "Pleased to meet you!" He beamed with such earnest and true delight that Olivia felt her irritation begin to melt. His entire hand could have gone around several of her arms, making it akin to a toothpick that can be snapped with no effort. Yet, she felt no fear. In fact, a smile crept into her face, slowly taking up residence on her full lips. "I am the Ghost of Christmas at the Moment!"

She swallowed back a giggle, her eyes bright as she looked up at him. "That's quite a mouthful."

"Tell me about it," he said, shaking his head regretfully. "I put in for a change, but I'm still waiting." He shrugged his shoulders, resigned. "Are you ready to go?"

"Where now?" she sighed, her blue eyes losing some of the merry spark that lit them only moments ago.

"Exactly!" he shouted, flinging the train of his cloak over Olivia and around him. There was a loud crack and a flash of blinding light that lit Olivia's eyelids. She shrieked, throwing her arms around the giant's massive ankle as far as they would go. Her eyes were squeezed shut, yet she was oddly comforted by the surprising scents of sweet berries and warm vanilla that clung to his robe.

His feet hit ground a moment later, the impact shaking Olivia from him. She fell back, cushioned in a safety net of cashmere as he reached out and scooped her into the palm of his hand. "Sorry," he gushed, his eyes downcast as he continued bashfully, "I'm still working on my landing."

She nodded slowly as she settled into the curve of his fingers. "What did you mean by 'exactly'?" she asked, the rise of flesh in his palm serving as a rest for her swollen feet.

"Oh!" He gestured grandly and turned his hand so she could see. "We're here! I mean, now!"

"At the moment?" she prodded gently, her head swimming with confusion. "The present?"

He nodded and snapped his finger, a simple action that made Olivia tremble and cover her ears. "Sorry," he said quickly, his cheeks blushing as he chastised himself. "I always forget you're small."

She lowered her hands from ears tentatively, noticing her surroundings for the first time. She was still in Bette's house, but they were downstairs. "All those theatrics when we could have just taken the stairs?"

"You humans might say I have a flair for the dramatic."

She couldn't help rolling her eyes at his excuse as she asked, "What is this?"

"It's what's happening right now." He nodded enthusiastically, looking down into her wide eyes. "Most of you humans never stop to think about how your actions effect other people."

"_Your good pal Livy could always go to a hotel!_"

Olivia's eyes narrowed and she crossed her arms indignantly as Bette came into the living room, blowing on a mug of hot chocolate. "Stop that," she muttered, pouring a splash of Kahlua into the steaming drink as Annie followed her. "Olivia's going through something…something so painful, you and I can't comprehend."

"Puh-lease! Olivia Richards is a one-woman drama show. If she's so upset about Caitlin, she should be back at her own house with her family…not invading my guest room!"

She watched her friend lower her head and pinch the bridge of her nose. "Technically, it is _her_ guest room, Poopsie."

Annie flopped on the couch next to her aunt, kicking her legs up on the stone coffee table. "Whatever."

Bette leaned back into the sofa, tucking a leg beneath her. "You're too young to remember this, but that woman was there for me during some dark days after John took Emily back East with him." She looked up at the ceiling and to the second floor where Olivia was. "I owe her this." Her eyes narrowed and she glanced over to Annie. "Just like you would have done for Maria."

Olivia's breath ran shallow, a painful rock swelling in her throat. Shame flushed in her neck and cheeks as she looked down at her lap. "It must be nice to have a friend like that," the ghost said. "I wouldn't know." He sighed sadly and continued, "I don't have any."

She nodded dumbly, turning back into the cave of his fingers. "I don't want to be here," she murmured, regret for her earlier meltdown with Bette plaguing her soul. "Take me somewhere else."

"Where?"

"Anywhere."

He nodded obligingly, twirling the robe over them. A moment later, his feet hit ground and the cloak fell from them. She sat up, her eyes widening in surprise. One Ocean Avenue. She shivered, looking around the empty living room. A fully decorated tree stood forlornly in the corner, its lights twinkling sadly in the night. Even the festive red bows looked pathetic, hanging limply in low spirits. "Look," the ghost said sadly, turning his hand towards the decorated tree.

She gasped, covering her mouth when she saw the base of the tree. "Sean," she whispered, pushing herself up to kneel in his palm. He was laid out on the floor, his body a graceful line and his arms folded up to cushion his head. She watched the slow rise and fall of his chest, in seeming time with the soft carols drifting out of the speakers.

The ghost scratched his head, his face screwed in thought as he watched the teenager. "What's he doing?"

Olivia's face fell, tears catching on her eyelashes. "He's- he does that every year." She sniffled, wiping her eyes as she explained, "When he and his sister were younger, they would sneak out of bed." She smiled at the memory, remembering the patter of their feet on the stairs. "They wanted to wait for Santa," she continued, a parent's amused pride rising in her throat. "Later, Gregory and I would find them sound asleep beneath the tree. Even when they were older, they would lay there for hours, staring up through the lit branches."

The ghost smiled broadly as he gushed, "That's so nice."

As she watched her son, she shivered within her robe. "He misses his sister terribly," she whispered, her heart breaking. "They were so close."

"It's nice that brothers and sisters are close," he said softly after a long moment. "It's hard for me to keep in touch with mine…there are thousands of us."

She nodded to herself, barely hearing him. "He's so alone…and on Christmas Eve! Where is Gregory?" She looked around the room, searching for her husband. "If anyone would know what Sean is going through, it's _him_."

The giant's face set, sadness clouding his eyes as he snapped his fingers. Gregory's study instantly appeared, the lone glow of light coming from the small lamp on his desk. Shadows clung to the corners of the home office, snaking out across the floor to consume the room.

Olivia blinked, her eyes adjusting to the dim light. She sat still, her hands clasped to her heart as she watched her husband. He sat slumped over the desk, dejected. A half-empty decanter of scotch and a tumbler sat before him and she watched him suck his glass dry. She bit the corner of her lip, her hands trembling as he refilled the glass. "Let me down," she said softly, hugging the giant's massive thumb.

He lowered her to the ground, the landing indeed gentle as she stood. The wood floor chilled her feet and they curled in response as she made her way to his side. She looked down at him, her heart aching as she saw what he did. A gilded picture frame, a long ago Christmas morning encased behind the glass. Young Caitlin and Sean, nestled in a mountain of wrapping paper. Herself crouched behind them, beaming with festive pride. Gregory to her right, holding her close as their faces brushed together.

Her head tilted in thought, her lips curling. The photographer? Bette, she remembered, had taken the photo, spending nearly every Christmas morning with them after losing Emily.

"_Smile!" red-head had urged brightly, coaxing smiles from the family of four. "Mistletoe and eggnog!"_

Olivia shivered, the camera's shutter echoing in her mind. She reached for Gregory, drawn to his achingly empty shoulder. But her hand went right through him and a tortured sob rumbled in her chest. The ice cubes clinked against the wall of tumbler as he raised it to his lips, watching the photo with such longing that she wished with all her heart she could make it so again.

"He looks sad," the ghost quietly, shuffling behind the couple.

She nodded, the tip of her nose red as she reached again for her husband. "Please?" she asked, a cry wavering her question as she looked up at him. "Let me hug him."

His button eyes fell as he shook his head. "You're can't. You're not here with him. You're only watching."

"B- but," she cried, anxiously tugging on his dark green robe, "he needs me! You don't know Gregory! He'll slowly kill himself with blame!" She spun back to her husband, hot tears running down her face as she reached again and again for him. "He and Sean need me! _Please_!"

The cloak flew over her again and she cried in frustration, Gregory disappearing. "No!" she shouted, angrily pounding her fists against his massive calf. "Go back! Take me back to my family! Take me back! Take me back to them right now!" Irate tears burned her flesh, her cheeks red and splotchy. She barely felt the bump as his feet touched down, her throat raw from the pain of breathing against her grief. "Please," she begged, slumping like a broken women against his leg, "take me back to my family."

An icy chill swept over Olivia and she shuddered, looking up. They were standing on a deserted hill, a cruel wind howling over them. The night was black, unmerciful and unforgiving. Her hair billowed behind her, the hem of her nightgown and robe dancing around her feet. She sniffled, wiping her face and she looked around. "Where are we?"

The ghost began to cry, deep hiccupping sobs that made her glance up. "We're in between worlds," he sobbed, blowing his nose on the sleeve of his robe. "I don't like it here. I want to go home!"

She watched him reach for the train of his robe and she cried, "Wait! Where are you going?"

"Home," he sniffed, brushing tears from his chubby cheeks.

"What about _me_?" An uncomfortable feeling settled in the pit of Olivia's stomach and the baby began to kick frantically as ghost's eyes grew to saucers. He raised a shaky hand, his entire body trembling as he pointed behind her. Her skin crawled, the fine hairs on the back of her neck standing as ice rained over her. She turned slowly, barely noticing the loud pop as the Ghost of Christmas at the Moment vanished.

A glowing white light was making it's way up the hill, the grass shriveling and dying in its presence. Olivia pressed her hand to her stomach, rubbing it gently as the baby began to kick frantically. "It's just a bad dream," she whispered as a painfully frigid blast nearly knocked her down. "It's just a bad dream."

The light neared her and she paled, watching in stunned fear as a hooded figure floated before her. It couldn't have been more different than the previous ghosts if it tried. A robe with a sickly glow completely covered the new ghost. It's head was bowed, almost reverently as its hands were tucked into the opposite sleeves against it's frail chest.

She was frozen in terror, her feet one with the ground. Thunder rumbled in the distance, filmy frost covering everything around them. When it looked up, its head raising with a painstaking slowness, she moaned and covered her mouth. A translucent exoskeleton looked back at her, pitch-black eyes sunken into a skull. It bared its teeth menacingly and Olivia's legs were jolted back to life. She backed away quickly, forcing herself to ask, "Who are you? What do you want?"

She cringed at the underlying dread in her voice, suddenly wishing to be a child living with Helen again than in the presence of this _thing_. "Are- are you another ghost?"

The skull growled, hovering a generous foot off the ground. She gasped, moving faster as it neared her. "Are you the…" She faltered, running through the names of the previous ghosts in her head. "To Come?" she asked. A crack of thunder shook the ground to its core and she jumped. "The Ghost of Christmas to Come?"

It gave no response, no acknowledgement of her question. It only moved closer, bringing a biting cold that consumed her before everything went blacker than it already was.


	4. Christmas to Come

(See the first chapter for disclaimer, notes, spoiler, etc.)

Chapter 4: "Christmas to Come"

Light.

Blinding, _painfully_ blinding, white light.

Olivia grimaced, shading her eyes with her arm as a strong wind howled around her and drowned out the sound of her thundering heartbeat. The beam singed her eyes, illuminating everything to the point where she saw the fine blood vessels in her eye lids. She lowered her face, turning away…anything to escape the penetrating light.

And then everything went so suddenly quiet that she didn't realize she had been screaming until she heard herself. She lowered her arm, looking up slowly. Her tortured eyes blinked and danced, struggling to focus.

She felt the third and most frightening spirit before she saw it. It was like a shadow, hanging over her and consuming her. An icy chill made her shiver and she glanced over her shoulder, her eyes widening when she saw it hovering behind her in a cloud of fog. "What do you want?" she cried, shielding her belly from its piercing stare.

It nodded sharply and Olivia shrunk away from him. The fog around them dissipated, reveling Bette's living room. She sighed with relief, spinning around as she looked for her friend. "Bette!" she shouted, rushing over to the small balcony, only to find no one. She turned back to the living room, disappointed as she glanced around. The entire first floor looked deserted, heavy drop cloths covering the remaining furniture. "Bette?" she whispered, running the tip of her finger through the thick layer of dust clinging to the protective material. "Where are you?"

The front door burst open, sad grey sunlight falling into the neglected house. "Come on!" she heard Annie say, pulling a strange man into the house. He grabbed her to him, wrenching her arm behind her back as he kicked the door shut. "I don't have all afternoon!"

"Neither do I, Babe."

Olivia grimaced, drawing the lapels of her thin robe together. The spirit lingered at her side, an eternal snarl etched into his translucent skull. She turned back to Annie, watching as the young woman was pushed against the desk, dust flying up as her rear disturbed the cloth. Her friend sneezed, dropping her like hot coals as his body was racked with a shudder. "Don't be a baby!" she snapped. "It's only a little dust."

He sneezed again, tears running down his face as he looked up at her. "Would it have killed you to do a little cleaning before we got here?" he muttered, patting his pockets down in search of a tissue.

"Do _I_ look like the type of woman to clean anything, let alone an abandoned home?"

Olivia couldn't help smirking as Annie spun away from him, irritated as he let off one final sneeze. The redhead tugged her skirt down, brushing dust stains from the crushed silk. "Why don't you just sell it then?" he asked, sniffing.

"It's not mine to sell," she muttered, walking around the living room with a critical eye.

"Damn right," Olivia said beneath her breath, narrowing her eyes as she watched Annie. Mischief glowed in the younger woman's eyes, her green eyes bright in the dim light. Del's daughter was never a welcome addition to _any_ story.

"Then why are we here?"

Annie's hand ran down the vertical blind, grimacing at the coating of grime on the metal. "It serves our purpose." She wiped her hands together and glanced behind her. "What better place for a quickie than my husband's abandoned beachfront property?" She laughed to herself, her heels clicking on the tile. Reaching for her friend, she pulled him roughly to her. "The great Gregory Richards would never think to look for us here."

Olivia her herself gasp and felt the blood rush from her head as her vision disappeared into a swirling vortex. _Her husband_? The floor vanished beneath her and she slumped against the sofa, disturbing the drop cloth. "Annie and Gregory? Bile rose in her throat, her stomach churning with disgust as the very concept sunk in. "_My_ Gregory?"

She whirled on the spirit, not caring that Annie and the man were ripping clothes from each other. "Gregory married that little tart?" she demanded, her hands balling into angry fists. "How? When? WHY?"

The spirit met her eyes and Olivia swore she saw a smirk flash in its eyes. "Answer me, damnit!" her voice rose to a fevered pitch, her neck flushed with anger. "Annie and Gregory? Is it true?"

But it merely nodded, a puff of smoke swallowing them and depositing them in Gregory's study. Like Bette's living room, it too was different than the last time a spirit had brought her there. So was Gregory. He sat at the desk, barking orders into the phone. "I don't care if it takes a hundred man hours! This merger is going through- _tonight_!"

Olivia flinched, her eyes falling into a frown as she heard him. He was ruthless Gregory now, the polar opposite of the broken man she last saw. "I don't care that it's Christmas Eve!" he growled, slapping a leather folder closed. "This godforsaken holiday has been used as an excuse for far too long!"

He slammed the phone down, the handset cracking against the receiver. "No reason to celebrate a holiday that brings my business to a grinding halt," he muttered, standing in one fluid movement.

Olivia backed away, hurrying out of his path as he stormed from the study. She glanced over to the spirit, asking in a horrified whisper, "What's happened to him?" But the spirit merely hovered next to her, jutting his chin after Gregory. She followed him out, One Ocean Avenue a palace of shadows. She shivered, catching up with Gregory in the living room and she couldn't help a regretful cry. There was nothing of Christmas in the house. No bows, no stockings over the mantle, no festive lights. Worst of all, no tree.

She shook her head, hiding behind the column as she watched Gregory pour a generous splash of scotch into a glass. Behind her, the front door opened, letting a fresh gust of air into the haunted living room. "_I'm home, Daddy_!"

Hugging the column for stability, she watched a child run into the living room, throwing a book bag to the floor. Her breathing went shallow, gaping as she watched Gregory turn. "How was school, Son?" he asked with soft eyes, scooping the small child into his arms.

She moved away from the column, her legs jelly as she watched the pair. Gregory was instantly transformed, a shell of the bitter man he was moments ago. He held the boy to him, running his hand over the dark head. "It was ok," the child replied, shrugging. "Ms. Davis made us gingerbread cookies." He grimaced and began to gag exuberantly, holding his throat for show.

"Ah, your favorite," Gregory said dryly, kissing the boy's forehead before lowering him to the ground.

"No, Daddy! I _hate_ gingerbread!" He frowned, crossing his arms against his chest. "It's gross!"

"Yes, Ollie. I know."

Olivia moved closer, her eyes narrowed in confused thought. _Ollie_? She pressed her hand to her stomach, feeling the baby kick. She was drawn to this child before her and she knew instinctively he was hers. _Theirs_. Her head swam with murky thoughts, feeling like she had wandered into some twilight zone version of her life. Annie and Gregory…and Ollie?

"Rose packed your suitcase this morning, so we're ready to leave in a few hours."

The child nodded and jumped onto the sofa, pulling a candy cane from his pocket. He unwrapped the peppermint treat, the plastic crinkling in his tiny hands. After sucking on the candy for a long moment, he said, "Daddy?"

Olivia watched Gregory sit next to their son, his arm around the child. "What is it, Oliver?"

She looked up sharply, resting on the back of the sofa as the boy asked, "Why don't I have a Christmas tree like the kids in my class?" Her heart sank and her throat began to work as he continued, "I'm the only one that doesn't get presents from Santa."

Gregory sighed, ruffling the boy's hair. "Don't I buy you all the presents you ask for?" Oliver nodded glumly as his father continued, "Don't you and I have fun in Switzerland?"

She watched the sad boy, wiping her runny eyes as he sat up on his knees and exclaimed, "But we go skiing every year! Can't we stay home, just _once_, so Santa can leave me presents?"

Gregory shook his head, pulling the little boy into his lap. "No, Ollie." He drew the boy closer, resting his chin on the child's head. "Christmas isn't the same for us," he whispered, rubbing the boy's back.

"Because of Mommy," Oliver continued matter-of-factly, making Olivia's head fly up.

"What?" she asked, brushing past the spirit to come around the sofa. She watched Gregory, recognizing the tension in his jaw and watching the way he sucked air into his lungs. "What about me?"

His dark eyes were bright with unshed tears and he clutched the child tighter. "Yes," he said sharply, his voice cracking. "That's why you and I go to Switzerland every year and we'll have fun…just the two of us, like we always do."

"Ok, Daddy," the boy sighed, sitting up and wrapping his arms around his father's neck.

"Oh," Olivia sighed, watching as Gregory stood and walked out of the room. "Why am I not with them?" Her heart crumbled, her arms aching as she watched them disappear up the stairs. Her beautiful son and her sad husband. "Let me go home!" she pled, turning back to the menacing spirit. "Please, take me back!"

Regret filled her, swelling in her chest. Pushing Gregory away had led to this. Through some bizarre series of circumstances in a sister universe, she had pushed him away and straight into Annie's eager arms. And their son. Their darling son, their second chance, was deprived of the loving parents that he deserved. They needed her, all of them. Gregory, Sean and little Oliver.

The baby within in her kicked in agreement and she smiled down at the bump. She turned back to the spirit, shivering as it drifted closer to her. "Please," she whispered as it stopped a breath away from her. "Let me go back to my family."

It growled, its eyes narrowing as it nodded one final time. The foggy cloud appeared, tearing her away from Gregory and Oliver and depositing her at the gates of a cemetery. She blinked, a roaring wind howling over the grounds as she read the sign. "Why am I here?" she shouted to the spirit over the gusts.

It floated past her as if she wasn't even there, determined. She hurried after it, holding her robe closed against the strong wind. She passed sad rows of lonely gravestones, tangles of weeds threatening to overtake them. Following the sickly glow of the spirit deeper into the deserted grave yard, Olivia began to feel the icy pricks of trepidation. Every where she looked, she saw head stones. There was no end inside, just a void that sucked her in deeper.

It turned sharply, moving down row of seeming importance. She gasped in pain, the soles of her feet tearing on a runaway strand of prickly thorns. Her face turned, warm blood weeping from her feet as she looked up in time to see the spirit had stopped. She gasped for breath, her chest heaving as she followed its gaze. It was looking at a dark figure huddled over a forlorn stone marker, anxiously clearing the weeds away. She inched closer, brushing her hair out of her eyes as she strained to hear.

"The weeds just grow out of control," she heard a woman gush apologetically, wrenching the twisted invaders from around the base of the stone. "Almost like they have a will of their own."

She turned back to the spirit, shaking her head. "I don't understand. Who's grave is this?" The ghost floated past her, hovering close to the marker. Its sickly glow scattered enough light across the letters carved into the stone and Olivia kneeled down to read them.

**OLIVIA RICHARDS  
1954-1998**

She swallowed back a sob, covering her mouth shakily as she watched the woman tug the last of the weeds from the ground. Leaning forward, she reached out, the tip of her finger following the letters. "No," she gasped, shaking her head furiously. "No, I'm not dead."

"Oh, Livy," the woman sighed, laying a small bouquet of white lilies at the base of the stone.

Olivia glanced over, her eyes wide. "Bette?" She crawled across the ground, dirt smudging her silk nightclothes as reached for her friend. "Bette, help me!"

Bette sniffled, wiping her hands on her thighs as she read the inscription. "I still can't believe it's another Christmas and you're not here. Ten years and I still expect you to burst through the door, your arms full of presents." She sighed sadly, shaking her head regretfully. "I think back on it all and I just can't…believe any of it actually happened."

"Bette," she sobbed, wiping her eyes.

"Gregory made good on his threat. You divorced him and he took little Oliver away from you the day he was born." She cocked her head, her fiery red hair dancing a dervish in the wind. "You were never far from his thoughts…or heart, even after he married Annie. Just look at the name he gave your son: Oliver Blake Richards. He needed you in his life, even if it was just the memory of your name."

Hot tears rolled down Olivia's cheeks, struggling against the painful rock in her throat to read. She slumped against the marker, the rough stone tearing the shoulder of her robe.

"And you," Bette continued, her voice growing with emotion, "just fell apart. You had pushed everyone away after Caitlin, none of us knew just how far gone you were after you lost Oliver." A sob interrupted her and she looked down, wiping her eyes. "We found you in that little grotto on Christmas Day," she cried, her face crumpling. "You, all alone with an empty champagne bottle and pills."

A dark and ugly feeling grows from Olivia's heart, sprouting like the weeds that grew around her grave stone. Her chest heaved and she gasped for air, her eyes wild. Hysteria unraveled like a spool of thread and she scrambled to her feet. She lunged for the spirit, grabbing hold of its robe and jerking it. "I don't want to die! I don't want to die!"

Tears of panic and fear burned her eyes, blurring her vision as it snarled. "I want to go home! I want to be with my family! I understand! I UNDERSTAND!" She continued shaking it for emphasis, the sickly glow growing brighter as she cried, "Please! Take me back to my family and friend! I won't push them away anymore! I'll never take them for granted again!"

She fell to her knees, dirt staining her flesh as she clutched the hem of his robe. "I want my family! Please! Take this all back! I want to go back! I don't want to be like Del," she pled weakly, spent.

Bright light consumed her vision and she looked up, blinking in surprise. She was on the floor in Bette's guest room, clutching the leopard-print bed skirt. Her eyes grew to silver dollars as morning sunshine fell in through the open balcony doors. The fresh scent of the ocean breezed in, the curtains dancing on the air. "Oh my God," she gasped, pushing herself up. She turned in a small circle, checking her feet and knees. No bloody scratches, no dirt smudges.

"Oh my God!" she cried as the baby began to kick energetically. "I'm back! I'm back!" Laughter bubbled up in her throat, absurdly delicious laughter that made her chest tingle. "Thank you, spirits! Thank you!"

She ran over to the balcony, gripping the railing as she turned her face to the sun. Warmth rained over her, the chill of the last spirit a distant memory. "And Happy Christmas, Del…wherever you are."

Her eyes popped open, an urgent thought rearing its head as she watched the horizon. "Is it still Christmas?" She looked down, seeing a teenager strolling down the sidewalk with a surfboard tucked beneath his arm. Waving frantically, she shouted: "Boy! Boy!" He looked up, confused as she called out, "What day is today?"

He tilted his head, watching her. "It's Christmas morning," he replied, shifting his board.

Olivia squealed with delight, dancing in a small circle. She hadn't missed it! "Thank you! Thank you!" She looked back down at the young man, beaming. "Happy Christmas to you!"

He watched her dash back into her room, the balcony doors slamming shut. A bashful grin was painted on his face and he nodded, whispering, "You too."


	5. Christmas Morning

(See the first chapter for disclaimer, notes, spoiler, etc.)

Chapter 5: "Christmas Morning"

Olivia hurried down the hall, juggling her purse, suitcase and a shopping bag. A radiant smile stretched across her face, soft humming rumbling in her throat. Bubbly carols drifted up from the living room and she followed them down the stairs. Annie and Bette looked up in surprise, Bette's tea cup clattering against the saucer. "Livy!" she exclaimed, jumping up. "What are you doing?"

She dropped her bags to the floor and threw her arms around her friend. "Oh, Bette, isn't it wonderful? It's Christmas!" She kissed her cheek, squeezing her tight. "And I'm so sorry about yesterday. I- I wasn't-"

"Toots, it's ok," Bette said softly, beaming. "I'm glad your back."

"Me too." She grasped her hands, chuckling bashfully. "Thank you for everything."

"Where are you going?"

"Home," she said simply.

"Finally," Annie muttered beneath her breath, leaving just enough volume in her declaration for Olivia to hear.

"I don't want to be away from Gregory and Sean any longer," she explained, gesturing to her bags. "Especially not on Christmas."

As Bette smiled, her eyes sparkling, Annie jumped up, brushing her hands dismissively. "Right. Well, I'll just carry your bags out to the car for you." She grabbed the suitcase and shopping bag, making a beeline for the door. "Don't worry if you forgot anything- we'll get it to you."

The two friends made eye contact, Olivia's brow arched as Bette shrugged. "She's being helpful. Maybe it's a sign she's turning over a new leaf?"

Olivia's eyes narrowed as she followed Bette out, the horror of the Christmas to come a vague shadow that momentarily darkened her thoughts. "I don't know about that," she said simply, closing the front door firmly behind her. "She is Del's daughter, after all."

* * *

Darkness.

Gregory opened his eyes, blinking slowly as he looked around. His study was cloaked in the dark, a fine line of sunlight burning around the edges of the curtains. It was day. Again.

He shook his head, rubbing his dry eyes awake. The rising sun was yet another nail in his coffin of agony, a life without living. He stood, his limbs aching from a night spent in the chair behind his desk. The tile floor was cool, a languid whisper awake as he shuffled across the room. With a sigh, he yanked the heavy panels apart and surrendered to the assault of bright sunlight.

The light pierced him, burning straight through to his tortured soul. And he stood there, accepting the onslaught. He opened his shocked eyes, wincing at the strength of the light. Was it as horrendous as the pain of the car accident? No, of course it wasn't. He clenched his fists around the curtains, prostrating himself on the altar of damnation. Nothing he could do to himself would equal the horror he unleashed on his wife and daughter.

Nothing.

An overwhelming tide of grief consumed him, rivaling the oppressive silence that choked him. How did the line go, from the story he always read to the children on Christmas Eve? Not a creature was stirring? This was his moment, the terrifying singular moment when his reality crystallized to realized perfection. He was alone, the family he would die for fleeing from him like the plague.

He turned from the window, defeated. Defeated by his own demons and the revulsion of his own actions. No one could hate him more than he hated himself. He reached for the door, yanking it open with such power that the hinges groaned. "Merry Christmas," he whispered in disgust. "Merry Christmas, _indeed_."

* * *

Olivia crawled out from beneath the tree, her hair caught on one of the prickly branches. She chuckled to herself, breathing heavily as she sat up and straightened the gifts around the base of the tree. The lights sparkled amongst the dark boughs, catching on the ornaments of glitter and shine. She looked up at the tree, her eyes raising to the top. A porcelain angel looked down at her, a serene smile painted on her delicate face. Her blue eyes softened, a gentle blush coloring her cheeks as she smiled back.

She heard him before she saw him. Her ears perked at his breath intake, a soft echo in the hushed silence. She gripped the coffee table and pushed herself up, her eyes locking with eyes. "Gregory," she sighed, a breathy whisper that tested the bounds of her own hearing.

His head tilted, his eyes clouding in disbelief as he watched her. She reached for him, her arm extended as she inched closer to him. Time froze to a heartbreaking pause as she cupped his face, her eyes softening to a compassionate glow. He leaned into her touch instinctively, drawn into the shine of her eyes and the warmth of her smile.

She drew him closer with both hands, wincing at the facial stubble burning her palms. Their foreheads touched gently, tentatively. She heard him sigh, laced with emotion as they rested against one and other. "Are you real?" Gregory whispered with a such hopeful incredulousness that tears sprang to her eyes.

She nodded, his arms slipping around her as the breath rushed from his lungs. As she had done thousands of times before, she curled against him, her head fitting neatly into the nook of his shoulder. He crushed her to him, the baby kicking in protest between them. The molded together, key to lock, in the quiet of the living room. She rested a hand on his chest, feeling his pounding heart beneath her palm. Her own heart thundered in reply as he gripped her, as if his life depended on it.

And maybe it did, she thought, as she gripped him back just as tight.

"Is-" he asked, his voice cracking noticeably, "is this just for Christmas?"

She looked up slowly, her eyes full and shiny as she shook her head. "For good," she murmured, tears catching on her eyelashes. "If you'll have me."

"If you'll have me," he repeated, quiet awe clinging to his voice . He turned her chin up with his finger, gazing deep into her eyes. "Isn't that something I should ask you?"

Pressing her hand into his chest for emphasis, she leaned back against him, her head finding solace beneath his chin. "You and I could dance around whose question that is for years." She sighed, her heart easy as she was comforted by the sound of his. "All I know," she continued, his hand running gently through her hair, "is that it's Christmas…and there is nowhere else I want to be but home with you and Sean."

The absence of their daughter was never more apparent than in this moment. He nodded sadly, placing the softest of kisses on her forehead. She locked her hand with his, their fingers threading together. Now was all they had. All they would ever have. She heard Gregory sigh, felt the rumble in his chest. It's a pocket of calm in a sea of uncertainty, shelter from the darkness that darkened their lives. Her back shook as she reached up, brushing the hint of tears from her eyes. "I missed you," she whispered, leaning further into his embrace. "_Terribly_."

His hand followed the curve of her spine, settling comfortably in the small of her back. "It's the only time I don't mind being terrible," he replied, his voice low and gravely as her hard stomach pressed into him.

She smiled into his chest, letting the warmth of his words ebb over her. She knew peace again, finding her touchstone within the grace of his arms. A sharp wind howled through the door, the gauzy curtains billowing as a shiver of familiarity went through her. The harsh wind at the cemetery, the cold dirt beneath her knees… She shook her head, gripping him tighter. The phantom hand of other Christmases and desolate cemeteries reached out, stark reminders of all that could change in a New York minute.

He rubbed her arms fervently, willing warmth into her. "Cold?" he asked softly.

"No. Just…comfortable." She heard his smile, a pure moment of delight seizing him as she shook herself free of the dark hints of tomorrow.

"I- I'm very happy you're home," he said.

She looked up slowly, reaching for his face as she did. "Me too," she whispered, blinking back shiny eyes. He drew her closer, cupping her chin as their lips met softly. With the tentativeness of new lovers, he drew her in, gently exploring the warmth of her lips. She sighed against him, surrendering to the invitation.

The moment was theirs, the stars aligning as time stood still. Their arms went around each other, light from the Christmas tree spilling over them. Outside, the wind blew lazily, the frond dancing. They couldn't know that Sean was pulling into the driveway with a previous gift, one that would make their fervent dreams a reality. All they knew was each other, the nearness of him to her and the weight of her hand against his side.

She cupped his face, looking deep into his eyes as a chuckle rose in her throat. "What do you think of the name Oliver?"

THE END


End file.
